


But It's Better If You Do

by Cinnamonsin



Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Flavoured Lube, Fluff and Smut, Hotel Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Pet Names, Porn With Plot, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Sexual exploration, Shameless Smut, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Stoned Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22356103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamonsin/pseuds/Cinnamonsin
Summary: "As time went on, he became more and more intrigued by the idea of what it would be like to come whilst being filled up. Just the mere thought of it set a spark of arousal in the pit of his stomach."Matty wants to get off differently from how he usually does...George catches him in the act and helps him out.
Relationships: George Daniel/Matthew Healy
Comments: 15
Kudos: 55





	But It's Better If You Do

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! It's been a while since I last posted so I thought I may as well return with some filth.  
> It goes without saying that sexy 1975 fics are rare these days, (I think I missed the mark by a long shot lol) but I like them nonetheless, so I wrote one. I meant for there to be more chapters for this, but as I continued writing, things went off the rails and I decided to limit it to a one shot... Hopefully it isn't too wordy or anything.  
> (ps: the title is borrowed from Panic! At The Disco)
> 
> Enjoy ;)

(The first couple of scenes are just a bit of plot based on Matthew’s recent allusions to his bisexuality [ x ](https://www.nme.com/1975-interview-reading-people-notes-conditional-form-big-read) and bottoming [x](https://www.instagram.com/p/B3ufiM9Hcvg/?igshid=nihp60fgw2q7) and this crazy NSFW [t-shirt](https://www.instagram.com/p/B3RFd-gBhEh/) he posted on Instagram a while back)

“Mate, is that a new shirt?” 

Matty looked up from his phone and made a waggish face at Adam. “Do you like it?” He smirked playfully and stood up from the sofa on the bus, giving Hann a little twirl and pulling out the material of his shirt to show off the R-rated graphic. 

“Are they _fucking?_ _”_ Adam looked closer at the design and squinted to make sure he was seeing correctly. 

“It’s a Tom of Finland illustration; of course they’re fucking.” Matty giggled. 

“Is that the anal gang bang shirt?” George asked casually as he stepped from the bunk hall and grabbed a carton of chocolate milk from the fridge across from the sofa. He was clearly stoned (as per usual) since he only ever drank chocolate milk when he was spaced-the-fuck-out. 

“Hell yeah! How punk rock is that?” Matty exclaimed with a wide grin on his face. 

“ _So_ punk rock!” George answered in his best grunge voice while making the sign of the horns with his free hand. He went for a fist bump with Matty and they both shouted in unison. 

“Woo-OO!” 

“You guys are literally the worst.” Adam pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to laugh at his band mates’ absurd antics as he walked to the back of the bus.

~

“I like theatres. I like the dynamic. I like it when you’re up there and I’m down here.” The crowd on the opposite side of the fourth wall cheered loudly and Matty chuckled as he realized how sexual that statement had sounded. “I’m a bottom.”

After the show, everyone was giving high fives and cooling down in the dressing room. “Nice, _mature_ joke you made there, mate.” Ross snorted as he clapped his hand on Matty’s shoulder. 

“Cheers,” Matty replied facetiously before thirstily chugging from his water bottle. 

“You could’ve given some sort of sophisticated compliment on the architecture but nooooo,” Ross continued with a roll of his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Adam agreed. “Sometimes I can't tell if he’s thirty or twelve.” 

“Shut up.” Matty laughed and swatted at Hann’s shoulder.

The truth was, it may not have been as much of a joke as he thought it was… Matty had recently been dealing with a little bit of a sexual crisis. Not necessarily a sexual- _ity_ crisis —as he was fully aware of his attraction to men as well as women, and had outed himself as bisexual already— but a sexual crisis for sure.

See, since he was thirteen, he’d been fascinated to the point of obsession with fucking things (as most young men are). He fucked his hand, his pillows, his girlfriends, his one night stands, and later on he threw a few boys into the mix as well. The point was that he had always been on the _giving_ end of his sexual escapades; that’s what he’d always liked. What troubled him was the fact that, recently, he’d found some curiosity in being on the _receiving_ end of things.

Constantly making half-hearted jokes about ‘being gay’ and ‘being a bottom’ and ‘anal sex, rock on, woohoo’ had started to get to him, and as time went on, he became more and more intrigued by the idea of what it would be like to come whilst being filled up. Just the mere thought of it set a spark of arousal in the pit of his stomach. 

Like plenty of young men who’d experimented with their sexuality, he’d definitely had his fingers up his bum once or twice to test what it felt like, though he never enjoyed it, so he stuck with regular wanking when he was alone and topping when he was with somebody. That phase of experimentation was years ago, but now he was craving the feeling more than ever. He wanted to try it again, but shrugged off the idea every time it came to him; it was so weird and out of place. Trying to forget about it was a lost cause though. It just kept coming back to him. Every time he made a joke, every time he was alone with his thoughts. It was incessantly eating at him; like a demon perched on his shoulder nagging him to _explore_... Eventually he deduced the only way to get rid of this burning desire was to indulge in it. He had to get it out of his mind. 

~

“FREEDOM!” George gleefully leaped out of the airport courtesy van with his Gucci duffle bag hugged tightly to his chest. 

“Shut up, George!” Matty hissed at him from inside the vehicle. It was five in the morning and there were definitely weary travelers trying to sleep inside the thin walls and open windows of the hotel they were parked behind. 

George smiled sheepishly and dropped his bag on the ground. “Come on, Matty, I’ll catch you!” He whisper-yelled up at the curly haired man who was about to exit the van, and held his arms out. 

“No way! I’m an old man, I’ll probably roll my ankle or some shit.” Matty giggled as he cautiously stepped down with his little Louis Vuitton suitcase like a normal person. 

George pretended to catch him in slow motion. “Wooooooosh,” he whispered comically as he tugged the smaller man into his chest. 

Matty laughed and shrugged himself out of George’s grasp. He was trying his best to keep from going completely mental at the prospect of having two days off and staying the night in a hotel; a hotel with a full sized bed and cosy, new sheets, a proper shower, full room service, and a grocery store across the road that delivered if he needed any… extras. Yes, this day was the day, if any, to grant himself an orgasm in the exact way he’d been daydreaming about for the past aeon. He wasn’t able to fall asleep on the flight to Melbourne because he’d been too busy thinking about what he was going to do with himself; it made him all twitchy and excited. If he was going to be honest with himself, the initial strangeness of this desire to fill himself up had started to wear off. Was it _that_ big of a deal that he wanted to try it out again after all these years? Not really. No one would know any better anyway. He was at a hotel with the privacy of his own room. It would be his little secret. He had already formulated a plan for the day.

He and the boys were going to settle into their respective rooms, then stuff their faces with as many waffles and omelettes and muffins as they wanted in the breakfast hall, then head out to do some touristy things and experience the city for the day. When they returned to the hotel for the evening, Matty was going to anonymously call the concierge, request that a bottle of lube be sent to his room (honestly it wouldn’t be the first time), have a couple of drinks with the boys in Ross and John’s room as they usually did on hotel nights, then feign fatigue and steal away to his room for the night and fix himself up nicely. 

Matty clapped his hands together. His plan was set. 

“Someone’s excited this morning,” Adam said to him as he stepped out of the van and stood next to him as they waited for Ross and John. 

Matty took notice of how his own body was practically vibrating with elation and smiled up at Hann as innocently as he could. “We finally get to relax and unwind,” he sighed. Not a lie, but certainly not the whole truth. 

“Some good old R&R.” George nodded happily. 

“All right, I think we’ve got everything.” Ross struggled to see his way to the ground with both his and John’s overnight bags in his arms. Matty, Adam, and George all shared a snide, knowing glance. 

John had accidentally wrapped Ross around his little finger the second they’d reunited at the first rehearsal for the ILIWYS tour three years prior. Ross had taken on the role of ‘knight in shining armour’ to prove himself to John; his damsel who wasn’t really in distress… 

“Are you sure you’re okay carrying all that, love?” John asked from behind him, holding nothing but his little toiletry satchel. 

“Yeah, Waughy. I’m fine,” Ross said through clenched teeth as he stepped to the ground and, surprisingly, made it safely to the concrete below. He then proceeded to drop both bags from his arms and sigh with relief. John chuckled sweetly and joined him, resting his head on Ross’ shoulder contently. 

“Alright boys!” Jamie rounded the corner of the building then, hands full of keycards that in Matty’s eyes looked more precious than gold. “Here you are.” Jamie began to distribute the cards. “Go get settled in, then meet me downstairs in the conference room for breakfast in an hour.” 

~

The day felt longer than Matty had wanted it to, but he enjoyed himself nonetheless. They’d had their little meeting with Jamie and eaten their freshly cooked breakfast, then got dressed in proper clothes and went out for the day. They went to a local park with a massive flowering garden and played a jovial round of footy in the field with a ball that Ross found in a bush. Afterward, the group had split up. Ross took John on a walk through the garden, Adam and George raced excitedly to the duck pond to feed the birds, and Matty sat on a bench and opened his little notebook, journaling and doing some little drawings of the people nearby and the obscure looking statue in front of him that he quite liked the look of and planned to research back at the hotel. 

Later on, the group left the park to adventure around town. They all joked with each other as they paraded around the city, looking around little boutiques and knocking about freely. They bumped into a few ecstatic fans along the way and stopped to take photos and sign autographs. They finally ended their day out with an early dinner at a local vegan restaurant. Finally eating real food after a week was always a gratifying experience. Everyone agreed that they hadn’t seen a fruit or vegetable that wasn’t an apple, orange, or banana in literal days. The green leafy vegetables, peppers, carrots, quinoa, rice, and chips were a refreshing sight on the heaping full flatware placed in front of them. 

After dinner, the group split up into two Ubers to head back to the hotel and go swimming before the pool closed. They spent a good three hours splashing about in the water, sunbathing in the warm light of the late Australian afternoon and tipping back a few beers. 

“This is the life, innit?” George said from his chaise lounge, gesturing with his bottle of beer to the slowly reddening sky and the potted palms that surrounded the pool deck. 

“Oh, it is,” Matty sighed in agreement, looking up from one of his many wabi-sabi art books to admire his serene surroundings. The only noises around them were the sounds of John and Ross still kicking about in the salt pool, giggling quietly to each other about something every once in a while, their slow movements causing the water to lap at the walls of the pool ever so gently. 

“How’s ‘Concrete Slabs for Dummies’ going?” Adam asked playfully from the chair that sandwiched Matty between him and George. 

“Sod off, Hann.” Matty tried his best to sound serious. “Some of us actually want to learn about art so we can appreciate it more.” He couldn’t help but laugh. _Concrete Slabs for Dummies._ That sounded like something he might actually read, or possibly _write_. He giggled loudly. “What’s everyone doing after we’re done down here?” Matty asked once he collected himself. 

“Probably gonna go to bed,” George yawned. “I’m feeling a bit knackered after our day of R&R.” 

“Same here,” Adam agreed, stretching his legs out on his chair. 

“No drinks with Rossco and Waughy?” Matty inquired to confirm. 

George snorted. “I think they’ll be too busy canoodling to have us over for drinks.” 

Matty looked at the two still floating in the centre of the pool. Ross was giving Eskimo kisses to a very blushing, giggling John. “They’re like a couple of school girls, they are.” He shook his head with a smile. 

“They may as well be feeding grapes to each other,” Adam added. 

“Well, if we’re not having drinks, I think I’ll order room service for myself.” Matty sat up and closed his book, readying himself to make the phone call he’d been waiting to make all day. Having some lighthearted fun and being out and about with his mates had distracted him from the obscene mindset that he previously hadn’t been able to escape from, though he hadn’t forgotten about it by any means. 

“Could you order for me too?” George asked excitedly. 

Matty shot him a look. “Can you not order for yourself?” He was not about to let George ruin this for him.

George met his gaze with exaggerated puppy dog eyes. 

Perhaps it wouldn’t be _that_ much of an interference if he ordered for George… He could just deliver the stuff to his room and then get on with his own evening. Matty rolled his eyes and acquiesced. “What do you want?” He sighed. 

“A margarita pizza and a fuck ton of chocolate soy milk,” George answered promptly. 

Adam snorted. “Why soy?"

“Cause I’m into this vegan shit, now,” George answered seriously. 

Matty shot George a comically quizzical look. “More importantly, how much is a _fuck ton_?” He asked, half playful, half serious. 

“Like a gallon or something.” George shrugged and smiled into space in a way that made him look stoned already. 

Matty lost it. “A _gallon?!"_ He slapped his thigh as he laughed. “You want a margarita pizza and a _gallon_ of chocolate soy milk?”

“I’m gonna get _so_ wrecked,” George said in lieu of a proper answer and clapped his hands together. 

“Thought you said you were going to _bed_ ,” Hann countered snidely. 

“That may or may not’ve been a lie.” 

Matty chuckled and shook his head. He grabbed his book as he stood up from his chaise lounge. “May as well order before it gets dark. I’ll bring your stuff over when it arrives.”

~

Matty exited the lift and dashed, barefoot and still in his swim trunks, down the hall to his room. He tapped his key card on the handle of the door and pulled it open, immediately rushing to the telephone on the nightstand. He took a moment to catch his breath before picking up the receiver and holding it to his ear. 

A chipper female voice spoke through the phone. “Hello. Front desk speaking.” 

“Hello. Could you forward me to the concierge, please?” Matty asked as casually as he could. 

“Of course.” The line went dead for a moment. 

“This is the concierge speaking.” Another happy female voice spoke into his ear.

“Hello, I’m in room 221 and I’d like to order a few things.” He quickly realized how strange his request was going to sound. “I'd like a margarita pizza; wherever you can get one from is fine.” He bit his tongue to keep himself from laughing. “As well as three litres of chocolate soy milk, and a… bottle of personal lubricant.” There was a long period of silence on the other end of the line before the concierge asked for his preference of lube. Having something else to order alongside it should’ve made things more comfortable, but thanks to George and his damn chocolate milk, the process of ordering was even more awkward than it should’ve been. 

Matty sat on his bed and scrolled through Reddit on his phone as he waited for his and George’s things to arrive. The concierge had told him that everything would be delivered in about an hour, so he was stuck in limbo for a while. He was starting to get nervous and fidgety. The tension in him was starting to build up. He was so close yet so far. At one point, he stopped paying attention to the posts he was scrolling past and started thinking about stuffing himself with his fingers again. He thought to himself and decided he could probably take one or two of his own… maybe even three. He held up two fingers and looked at his hand, then added a third… Those were going to be inside of him in less than an hour. 

He shivered at the thought. 

It might take a little while to get them in since it had been so long since the last time, but if he was patient, he could manage it. 

He figured he may as well take a shower. Perhaps he would even shave and make himself feel… dare he say… _pretty?_

He threw some lazy clothes on and hurried down to the lobby to ask for a razor at the front desk, under the guise of using it to get rid of his five o’clock shadow. Once he had it, he went back up to his room and hopped in the shower to wash off the dirt from the day and do some serious manscaping. He shampooed and conditioned his hair under the relaxing hot water and scrubbed his entire body with his oatmeal soap bar that he’d brought from home. Once he saturated his hair with curl cream, he stepped out of the steam filled bathroom and looked at his naked form in the full length mirror on the wall. He looked stunning. His hair was going to be soft and beautifully curled once it dried completely. His skin was pink and fresh and clean. He’d shaved _everywhere_ below his waist, deciding to throw caution to the wind and shave his legs in addition to his more intimate areas. Even though he’d accidentally nicked himself a couple of times, he loved how smooth he felt. He moisturized his legs with the cream that matched his soap and threw himself back onto the sheets of his lovely, clean bed; allowing the fresh and floral scent of lemon-cardamom lotion to invade his senses, and admiring the way the soft fabric felt against his hairless legs. He sighed contentedly as he twisted his limbs into the sheets. They were cooling against his flesh that was still warm to the touch from his shower. He could get used to this. 

Just then, there was a sudden knock on the door. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the startling sound. 

“Delivery!” The muffled announcement was spoken by a gruff male voice. 

“Coming!” Matty scrambled to get his trackies on and rushed to the door. He didn’t want to keep the poor man waiting all night. He’d probably been through enough shit today. Certainly the last thing he wanted to do was deliver lube and stoner food to a damp, queer Englishman. Matty looked through the peephole to make sure it wasn’t one of the guys playing a prank on him, even though he knew it probably wasn’t.They used to do that all the time, especially when they first started touring. Staying in hotels together was a fun new thing for them and they always knocked around, banging on each other’s doors calling ‘room service!’ and racing the baggage trolleys through the hallways until some randomer would burst out of their room and tell them to shut up. Those were the good days...

Matty opened the door and a man in a black suit with a name tag stood in front of him. 

“I have a margarita pizza, three litres of chocolate soy milk, and a bottle of p-” 

Matty interrupted before he could finish stating the slightly embarrassing order. “Yes, that’s for me.” 

“Let me help you with these.” The man carried in the box and bag. “Where should I-”

“Just on the coffee table is fine.” 

The man set them down and promptly made his way to exit the room. “Have a pleasant evening, sir.” He left and closed the door behind himself. 

Matty wondered if the boys had come back from the pool yet. The sky outside was nearly black with just a few wisps of pink and orange hues left in it. He stepped onto his balcony that was conveniently located at the back of the hotel, right over the pool, and looked down. The boys were all still down there, sitting at the edge of the pool and laughing about something or other, chatting animatedly amongst themselves and another group of young men and women who must’ve befriended them while Matty was gone. Someone had to have brought a speaker, because Matty heard music rising from the pool deck. Everyone looked to be having a great time and he didn’t want to interrupt them by yelling down three stories at George to get his pizza. Matty thought about shooting him a text or giving him a ring but remembered that George had left his phone in his room to get away from the internet for a while, so he wouldn’t have it on him. It was nine o’clock and Matty knew that the boys would stay by the water for as long as they possibly could, but the pool didn’t close until half ten...

Matty had an hour and a half to fix himself before George came to retrieve his food. 

He stepped back inside, sliding the glass door shut behind himself, and dug through the shopping bag to find the lube. He pulled out the three sweating cartons of soy milk before he could reach the bottle at the bottom of the bag. Now was the time. The substance inside the plastic container was clear and flavoured and scented like vanilla; exactly as he had requested. He sat himself on the edge of the bed, twisted off the cap of the bottle and broke the seal inside. The shockingly rich, pleasant aroma of sweet vanilla wafted into his nose, blending perfectly with the floral cardamom element that was already in the air. His breathing became heavier as he shut off the lamp next to his bed, leaving the room engulfed in total darkness, save for the lingering pink sunset outside. It was a beautiful night and everything was perfect. The air was quiet, his skin was clean, his legs were silky smooth, the bed had just the right firmness, and the room smelled absolutely ambrosial. The one thing he wished for in addition to these was a candle. In retrospect, he could’ve requested one from the concierge as well, but he hadn’t, so the last rays of light from the passing day would have to do instead. 

To Matty, sex was special. Even these amatory sessions with himself were important. They were especially sacred in moments like these; when he was properly alone with himself for the first time in weeks, when he was comfortable and had room to stretch and move freely, when no judging eyes were laid upon him as he explored his most clandestine fantasies. 

He may have been a sex symbol to thousands, he may have been worshiped at shows like some sort of god, but he was never going to be as comfortable with bearing his body to a crowd as he was with offering it to himself in these intimate moments; hidden amidst dim, pink light and swathed in self love. 

He kicked off his trackies and situated himself on his back in the centre of the bed, propping himself up on the soft squishy pillows. He lifted his knees and spread his legs, keeping his feet planted on the duvet covered mattress. This was how he always started. His dick wasn’t hard, but it was certainly interested, so it wouldn’t take long for Matty to work himself up before cutting to the chase and doing exactly what he had needed to do for so long. 

He wrapped his hand around his cock and tugged at it a few times, groaning quietly. The friction felt a bit too dry, so he reached for the lube that lay next to him, applied a small amount to the palm of his right hand and began to touch himself again. It worked perfectly. He moaned out loud almost instantly at the estranged pleasurable feeling that spread throughout his lower body. 

He whispered breathily to the empty room as he continued to stroke himself. “ _oh_ _fuck_ , that feels good.” His fingers were textured from playing guitar everyday, and coupled with the wetness of the lube, the flesh of his hand felt incredible against his sensitive cock. Soon enough, he was fully hard. He repositioned himself on the bed so he was kneeling back on his haunches, facing the headboard. His breathing became heavier and his hands were shaking with anticipation. He grabbed the bottle of lube and clicked the cap open, squeezing some more of the cold substance onto two of his fingers before bending over properly so that he was situated comfortably on both knees and his left elbow. 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said in quiet, shameful awe as he reached his right arm behind himself and touched his rim delicately with his index finger. His whole body tensed at the foreign chill of the lube, but it wore off in a second as he continued to circle his finger around his entrance, contemplating dipping into himself. He tentatively pressed at the centre of the tight ring of muscle and met with a bit of resistance as he shifted his finger inwards, so he relaxed himself and easily slipped it in up to the first knuckle. He shivered with pleasure as he twisted the digit further inside of himself, feeling the hot tightness of his inner walls contracting involuntary and sucking it in further. 

“ _Ah…_ ” He wriggled his finger around a bit more, trying to loosen himself up for the second. The sensation felt strange, but not at all in a negative way. As he curled the digit and continued to twist it about inside of himself, he let out a series of little noises that he’d never heard from himself before; curious, uncertain, short lived sighs that could’ve been pleasurable moans if only he touched his prostate. After a minute of testing the waters, he decided to add a second finger, and briefly struggled to tug out the first in order to lube up again. The vanilla scent was heavenly; nowhere near as cheap as he’d imagined it would be. He wouldn’t be lying if he said the delectable smell turned him on even more. Once his fingers were slick again, he pressed them back into himself, meeting much more resistance than before as his body implicitly told him that he wasn’t meant to put anything _inside_ of there, but he was a rebel and he was going to do with himself as he desired. He impatiently screwed them in up to the second knuckle and whined at the painful stretch that consequented from moving too quickly. 

This was what he remembered from the last few times he’d done this; this burning, torturous ache that he’d never been able to get past. This night was the night that he was going to get past it. He held his fingers still inside of himself, waiting for his body to adjust, trying to even his breathing. His entire frame was shivering from the frisson of finally doing this. He’d been waiting for weeks to attempt to get off in this manner. Everyday, he’d been imagining what it would be like, how good he was going to make himself feel... 

An image suddenly flashed behind his eyes; a filthy, lurid image of someone else’s fingers stuffed into him, they were longer and girthier than his own, and he imagined the feeling of them filling him up perfectly and rubbing against the spot he needed them to. He didn’t know who these fingers belonged to, but he decided not to delve too deep into that alternate reality, in favour of working with his own hand. He twisted his two fingers further inwards to ground himself and whimpered uncomfortably.

 _“Ow… mhhh..!”_ He was already starting to get frustrated, whining to himself about how it hurt and how stupid this idea was. He pulled his fingers outward to relieve some of the deep set pain, but his centre knuckles caught on his tight rim and his body clenched, confused, sucking them back in completely. 

_“AH!”_ He gasped at the sensation. There was no backing out at this point. He stilled his hand again, allowing himself to adjust for a minute or so. Once again, he became impatient and curled his fingers, which didn’t hurt as much as it did earlier so he scissored them a little, trying to gently force the stretch. 

He furrowed his eyebrows in concentration and whispered breathily to himself as he continued to move his fingers about inside of him. _“Relax, relax, relax.”_

A new concept wedged itself into his brain; one of what it would be like to have someone else right there on the bed with him —perhaps the person attached to those mystery fingers— telling him to relax and breathe, and that the pain would be over soon, and that he was such a good boy for being so patient... _Wait. What?_ This novel abstraction immediately travelled downwards from his brain, straight to the pit of his stomach where it unfurled and glowed brightly, giving him that warm, fuzzy feeling of arousal that he loved so much. He decided to toy with the idea and spoke in a small, quiet tone to the phantom behind him. 

“I’ll be a good boy, I _promise_.” 

He eventually got over the initial pain and started thrusting and prodding his fingers inside of himself, trying to find his prostate. He had heard from so many people that a prostate orgasm was the best kind in the known universe, and that’s what Matty wanted, so he forced his fingers as deep as they would go and pressed around… to no avail. Nervous perspiration started forming on his forehead. What if he couldn’t reach it? That thought had never occurred to him before. Maybe he needed more lube…

~

_“Ughh… Hahhh-”_

Five long minutes and about an ounce more of lube later, Matty’s left arm and thighs were shaking from the strain of holding his body up as he continued to finger himself inconclusively. His dick had gone soft on him and he was near tears. Being full after the initial pain subsided was so, _so_ good —just as good as he’d imagined, but without any other form of stimulation, he was left flaccid and wanting to come ever so badly. 

“Where is it?!” He cried in frustration as he pressed his digits around. 

Did he not have one of those sensitive bundles of nerves inside of him? He had to! He just couldn’t find it for the life of him. Though, every now and again his fingertips would graze something that sent a minuscule jolt of pleasure through him, but he could never keep them pressed against it. It was if the nerve was constantly changing locations; mocking him. The first of his exasperation induced tears cut searingly down his cheek and he sobbed. The strong smell of vanilla gunge leaking from his arsehole began to bother him as he uselessly rammed his fingers in harder. He’d used far too much lube in hopes that it might help, but instead it made things worse by taking away all the friction, leaving his fingers sliding in and out all too easily, causing their presence to be hardly noticeable. He cried out in unsatisfied agony as he realized that his efforts were leading nowhere and that he might just have to settle with pulling the two digits from his arse and have a halfhearted wank for the mere sake of reaching an orgasm. Afterward he would turn on the television and watch pay per view gay porn and cry himself to sleep. 

He sobbed again. _“No! Please._ Don’t wanna do that! Wanna get hard again, wanna come… _Please.”_ He didn’t know who he was begging to let him come —certainly not himself because he was already trying so hard. 

Maybe it was god.

_God, I’ll be at church on Sunday morning if you let me come tonight._

He let out a sound that was half sob, half scoff. If anyone _wasn’t_ going to let him come like this, it would definitely be god, for obvious reasons. 

“Please, please, _please!_ Need to come! _Ohhh… huhhh_ ,” he whined. That faceless phantom was behind him again, somehow more familiar than he felt comfortable with. Whoever this stranger he was imagining was, they were big, warm, and strong. 

_“Being such a good boy for me, darling. I’ll let you come soon enough, Matthew.”_ He moaned as the cloying voice of his own mind consoled him. 

“Please! I wanna!” He sobbed pitifully and elicited a series of discontented little sighs, huffs, and grunts as he persisted to thrust his fingers in and out of himself. His wrist was starting to cramp and he was certain he’d develop carpal tunnel syndrome if he didn’t stop in the next two minutes.

“Can’t find it!” He cried in agony as he let his tears flow freely, hiccuping with the sobs that wracked his throat. _“Please, please, please,”_ he begged desperately. 

“Hey.” 

Matty gasped and froze in horror at the sound of a voice that wasn’t his own. He slowly turned his head to face the origin of the voice and saw none other than George motherfucking Daniel casually standing next to the bed, looking stoned out of time and space. The shortcut door to George’s room was open and Matty realized that he must’ve left it unlocked after visiting George that morning. George was staring right at him, eyes glazed over and jaw lax. He smelled heavily of Marijuana. 

“STOP LOOKING!” Matty screeched. Hot tears streamed down his reddened countenance. 

George didn’t even blink. 

“Could you leave?!” Matty shouted incredulously. 

“Where’s my soy milk?” George asked as if his best friend of sixteen years wasn’t in front of him, completely naked and positioned on his hands and knees whilst his fingers were up his bum. 

Matty fish mouthed for a moment, he didn’t even know what to say. 

George crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. “You said you would bring it to me, but you didn’t.” 

Matty’s whole body flushed with sheer embarrassment and he hung his head in shame. He’d completely forgotten about George’s food. 

“I mean, I understand why.” George sat down on the edge of the bed. “What you’re doing now is pretty important, innit?” He contorted his body so his mouth was right next to Matty’s ear. “You know I’ve been listening to you for the past five minutes,” he said lowly.

Matty shivered at the feeling of George’s hot breath tickling his neck.

“Having a bit of trouble, are we?” 

Matty moaned softly in response and another hot tear rolled down his cheek. 

“I thought so,” George said simply. He ran a single digit down the centre of Matty’s sweat shimmering back. He let out a shaky gasp as George gently fingered at the dimples at the base of his spine. 

Matty had definitely imagined this before —doing things with George. Of course he had. After all he was into men, and George was one of the few constant men in his life. George was his rock, his producer, his partner in crime, among other things. They’d shared many a drunken snog in in hotel rooms on tour, and if Matty was ever desperate for some realistic gay wanking material, he’d think back to the night before his nineteenth birthday when the two of them got drunk and dry humped on the couch in his parents basement until they both came in their pants.

George had also caught him wanking before, but never in a million years had Matty ever thought he might hear George say “Need some help, love?” while he was in such a vulnerable, lewd position; but he just had. Matty was anguished at this point and selfishly forgot everything about his personal morals, the boundaries of their friendship, and the fact that George was out of his right mind. The only thought that wound its way through his conscience, ricocheting its way around his brain like a marble in a pinball machine, was how desperately he wanted to come. He wiggled his arse back needily, his fingers bumping against his insides as he did so.

George chuckled darkly. “Of course you do, baby.” 

Matty whimpered at the use of the pet name. “ _Help, George_ ,” he whined pitifully. 

“Be patient,” George chided as he moved properly onto the bed. Matty’s breath hitched. George was behind him now, and Matty could hear him sniffing at the air. He nuzzled his nose against Matty’s side, sniffing delicately downward from his waist to his hip, rubbing his hand over the swell of Matty’s arse as he did so. 

“ _Mmm…_ _Fuck_ , Matty. You smell delicious.” 

Matty mewled as George licked over his hipbone and sucked the sensitive flesh between his teeth, grinding them down into it; not enough to hurt but enough to make Matty moan impatiently. 

_“Please!”_ He pleaded. 

George growled hotly into the skin of his hip. “Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” 

A wanton cry escaped Matty’s lips. It was as if George could smell his internal fantasies and knew exactly what he needed. _“Yes!”_ He cried. “I’ll be _so_ good, George, I promise. I’ll be a good boy.” It felt heavenly to speak out loud to somebody else in real life, especially to someone who uncannily seemed to align with Matty’s vision of the phantom he’d been playing with earlier. George was big, warm, and strong just like it was… Maybe it had been George in his head all along… 

“Let’s get these out, yeah?” George took hold of Matty’s wrist and gently tugged his fingers out of himself, the suction of the muscles around them releasing with a wet pop. His empty hole clenched around nothing and he moaned as he wished to be full again. 

George placed his thumbs on the cleft of Matty’s clean shaven arse and pulled his cheeks apart, revealing his puffy, pink rim that winced voidly, sweet smelling slick dribbling out of it. “So _wet_ for me, love.” George leaned in and blew cool air over Matty’s quivering hole, which caused him to gasp and push back. George grabbed his hips with both hands to still him, massaging with his thumbs. “Ah-ah. You said you were gonna be good,” he chided.

Matty hummed in agreement, totally gone already. 

“Good means patient. Stay still and let me do the work.” George spread Matty’s arse again and nestled his face between his cheeks, licking a wide stripe over his leaking entrance that caused him to cry out in pleasure. George’s eyes widened and his mouth started to water. Matty tasted as good as he smelled; like fucking cookies or something. Having just smoked a massive blunt, George was starving. He felt absolutely filthy for wanting to eat Matty’s arse only because it satiated his craving for sweets, but he figured that Matty would probably enjoy getting a rimjob anyway so he went for it and swirled his tongue around Matty’s hole, closing his eyes and savouring the likeness of rich vanilla that invaded his senses. 

Matty moaned loudly. “ _Unghh!_ George, oh my god- _Fuck!"_ The sensation of the other man’s wet, warm tongue lapping over his sensitive rim was good enough to make his cock twitch back to life. His arms trembled from having to hold himself up as he endured the nearly torturous pleasure. He wanted George’s tongue, his fingers, anything he had to offer; he needed to be full again. “Inside! I-Inside me, George. _Pleasepleaseplease_ ,” he babbled between breathy gasps and little moans. 

George pulled away to speak. “Using your manners? You haven’t done that for a while,” he teased. “Being so polite tonight, baby.” He licked over Matty’s rim again, rubbing his tongue up and down and sucking at it, licking inside of him as far as he was able to, cleaning up all the delicious vanilla flavour. 

Matty’s eyes rolled back into his head and his mouth fell open as he moaned inwardly. He was in heaven; he’d gone to heaven and he never wanted to come back. 

“I think you deserve a reward for asking so nicely…” George smirked. 

Matty’s ability to form eloquent sentences was long gone. _“Ohhhh._ Yes please! Want one!” 

George paused to think. “What do you want inside you, love?” He asked lasciviously.

Matty was just about to blurt out asking for George’s cock, but decided against it. “Fingers, George, _please_.”

“Want me to fuck your pretty little hole with my fingers?” 

“Oh god, _yes._ ” Matty squeezed his eyes shut, imagining George’s long, thick fingers filling him up, fucking in and out, rubbing against that mythical spot inside of him and making him come all over himself. 

George placed one hand on Matty’s bum to ground him as he reached for the lube with the other. “Maybe… if you’re on your best behaviour… I’ll let you come.” 

“Please George! Wanna come. I- _Please_ .” Matty pleaded desperately. If George worked him up and _didn’t_ let him come, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself; he might just spontaneously combust. 

“You’re gonna be good for me?” George asked curiously. 

Matty nodded vigorously, his damp, curly ringlets bouncing as he did so. “I’ll be a good boy, I _promise_.” He repeated the same words he’d spoken to himself several minutes prior. He could’ve cried because it felt so good to speak them in real time to a real person; to George who would take care of him. Matty knew he would.

George _always_ took care of him. He called or texted to check on Matty when they were apart, he held him when he was sad or angry or on the brink of losing his mind when life proved too much to handle. He was even there when Matty was out of his mind on opiates back in the day, drifting in and out of lucidity for what felt like hours, unable to speak or move. Even in those times when George found him fucked up on the floor in his room, he would take care of him. He would sit cross legged on the ground and cradle Matty’s head in his lap and pet his dirty, uncombed hair and whisper or sing softly to him until he passed out or came to, phone in hand prepared to call an ambulance if he stopped breathing… 

“Of course you will,” George replied cheekily. “Flip over, love.” 

Matty did as he was told. His arms just about gave out as he turned onto his back, but he was thankful that he was able to finally relax his limbs. He rested his head against the pillows and looked up at George who was kneeling back at the foot end of the bed, staring at him hungrily. Unlike Matty, George was fully clothed, and though George had seen him naked countless times before, he was still slightly embarrassed by George looking at his nude body in such a sexual context. 

“I like seeing your pretty face,” George explained with a cheeky wink.

A pink blush dusted Matty’s cheeks as he cast his glance downward, avoiding the larger man’s gaze. “You think I have a pretty face?” He asked coyly. 

George hummed in response. “ _Mmm_ . You’re a very pretty boy; _of course_ you have a pretty face.” 

Matty’s blush raced down his neck. He felt as if he was on fire. George had never said anything like that in a serious manner before. Matty wasn’t even certain if the statement made any sense. It didn’t matter though because George was high as a kite and Matty was mentally numb as he drowned in his own arousal. 

“You’re so pretty everywhere, Matthew,” George complimented as he leaned forward between Matty’s relaxed, half-spread legs. He looked down and cracked a smirk. “Especially _here_.” 

He placed a finger at the base of Matty’s hard cock that curved prettily against his pelvis, and trailed the digit up the prominent, pulsing vein on the underside of his shaft. 

Matty squeezed his eyes shut and gasped a moan at George’s torturous, featherlight touch. 

“ _So_ pretty here.” George circled his finger around the glistening, pink, cut head of Matty’s cock that twitched stiffly in response to the attention. 

Matty moaned before closing his legs, pressing his thighs together tightly and locking his knees in place. “I-I can’t,” he sobbed, overwhelmed already. “Don’t tease me. You’ll kill me George. I’ll die.” He shook his head with conviction, limp, damp curls moving from side to side as he did so. 

“Aww.” George moved his hand to caress Matty’s tear stained cheek. “Poor baby,” he cooed. “Couldn’t let you die, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel good, okay? Trust me.” George smiled. “Now, Let me see you, love.” He placed his hands around Matty’s calves, glancing up at him to ask permission. Matty nodded quickly and relaxed his muscles as George gently spread his legs for him, raising his knees a little so he had easy access to where Matty needed him most. 

“Did you shave?” George asked in wonderment as he smoothed his palms over the hairless skin of Matty’s legs. 

Matty blushed and nodded slightly. “ _Mhmm.”_

“ _Fuck_ . That’s so _beautiful_ , babe,” George muttered as he bent forward to plant a kiss on Matty’s knee. He picked up the bottle of lube and opened the cap, the dense aroma of vanilla pervading his olfactory nerve as he applied a generous amount of the delicious liquid onto his fingers. He was tempted to lick it all off, but that would be like eating all the frosting before decorating the cake; it just wasn’t worth it. 

Matty was practically vibrating with anticipation. If he couldn’t help himself, then George could certainly help him. He watched with wide eyes as the larger man’s lube coated fingers moved closer to his entrance. The coolness shocked him after just having George’s warm tongue against his hole and his entire body shivered at the sensation. 

George pressed the tips of his two fingers against Matty’s pink, puckered rim and pet them over it, distributing the lube. He pushed his index finger at Matty’s centre and it clenched tightly, locking him out. He looked up at Matty whose face was contorted in a tense expression. His eyes were squeezed shut, dark brows furrowed above them, lips parted slightly. 

George patted his free hand over the outside of Matty’s smooth thigh to get his attention and the smaller man blinked his eyes open, looking up almost innocently at George. 

_“Relax, Matthew.”_

Matty whimpered at hearing his full name and did as he was told. 

George pressed the tip of his finger inward, meeting much less resistance this time. _“Good boy.”_

Matty keened at the praise. 

George slipped his finger in to the last knuckle without much struggle. “Prepped yourself just right, darling.” 

Matty whined and squirmed back on it, trying to get George to touch where he needed him to, but George didn’t give, instead pushing and circling the digit against Matty’s walls. Already, Matty could feel the difference in size of their hands. George’s were _so_ much bigger than his own, and warmer as well.

Matty moaned and arched his back. _“Please.”_

George groaned as if he was feeling as much as Matty was. “So tight, baby.” George twisted his centre finger in next to the first and did some more swirling and pressing before he started scissoring them. 

Matty squirmed and pushed back on them needily. _“Please, George.”_

“Poor baby couldn’t find his special spot by himself, hmm?” George teased lightly as he plunged his fingers in deeper than Matty was able to reach before and began to pump them inside of the smaller man. 

Matty blushed at George’s phrasing and whined at the sensation of the other man fucking him with his hand before answering, “N-No.” He felt so _full_ with George’s two thick fingers rhythmically sliding in and out of him. It was the best feeling he’d felt for a long while. The warm, golden arousal in the pit of his stomach spread throughout his lower body like swirling tendrils of enchanted ivy growing inside of him. George just needed to rub his prostate with the tip of one finger and he’d be gone. 

“Maybe _I_ can help you find it,” George suggested, a smirk apparent in his baritone voice. Matty could feel him pushing and prodding at his walls, searching for his prostate deep inside of him, but somehow, George’s fingers weren’t reaching it yet, and Matty did his best not to thrust his hips down impatiently.

George pulled his fingers outwards, confusing and frustrating Matty who whimpered in complaint. He just wanted to know what it felt like to touch that sensitive place inside him. 

_Was that too much to ask!? Or did George just want to torture him all night long?_

Suddenly, George curled the two digits upward and pressed on something that made Matty scream and see stars behind his eyelids as the ivy in his nerves set on fire. 

_“THERE,”_ He cried as he threw his head back. His body was ablaze with sheer pleasure. The feeling of George’s fingers incessantly rubbing against that little bundle of nerves was like nothing he’d ever felt before, it sent waves of flaming thrill throughout his sacral regions and made him feel like he was coming already. His cock twitched and he moaned unabashedly. 

George chuckled darkly as he watched Matty squirm. “Is that it?” He hastened the motion of his fingers. “Does it feel good when I play with it?” He purred. 

Matty keened high in his throat, unable to speak as he was overcome with such intense feeling. 

George watched in stoned awe as bead after bead of clear precome blurted from the slit in the blushing head of Matty’s cock. He knew the smaller man wouldn’t last long. Matty was panting heavily and writhing against the sheets, grinding his hips back in short little circles on the fingers that filled him. His now dry, fluffy, dark curls were spread over the silken pillows, and his heaving chest shimmered under a layer of sweat. His cheeks were rosy in colour and his eyes were screwed shut at the pleasure he was finally receiving. His mouth hung open absently as he panted and moaned, two lines of glistening saliva connecting his plump, pink lips. He looked so pretty, so pliant, so warm. George wanted to kiss him, but more importantly, he wanted to make him come, and he knew that if he continued with his ministrations, Matty wouldn’t last another minute. 

Matty screamed out a moan at the euphoric fire that spread from his centre of gravity to the rest of his body. _“Unghhh!”_ He gasped as he tried to catch his breath. _“Oh, George! Fuck I- Ngh!”_ His breathing became erratic and the muscles in his abdomen tightened as his impending release drew closer and closer. He thrashed his head against the pillows as he lost himself in the bliss of George manipulating his most intimate of places. 

He managed three words before returning to speechless moaning. “Gonna come, George!” 

_George._ George was doing this to him, _for_ him, not expecting anything in return. He was rough in action but so, _so_ gentle in demeanour; babying Matty through the near torturous ecstasy. 

“Touch yourself, Matthew. Come whenever you can,” George ordered softly as he relentlessly thrusted his fingers into the older man’s tight, vanilla soaked heat, refusing to let up on his prostate. Matty found it in him to open his eyes before reaching to wrap his hand around his pulsating sex, but upon doing so, he realized his vision was blurred. He was crying. Hot tears of desperation were streaming down his countenance. All he could see of George was the foggy silhouette of a large body looming over him in the darkness of the room. He sobbed, trying to blink his tears away so he could see George’s face, but more continued to form and fall in their place. He cried out in agony. He wanted to see George when he came, he wanted to feel connected to him at a deeper level than just having his fingers up his arse. 

_“Hand!”_ Matty gasped. “Want your hand, George!” 

“No, babe, want to watch you play with _yourself_.” 

Matty sobbed a high pitched moan in frustration. George hadn’t understood his plea. _“No!”_ He placed his right hand around his cock, —holding on to his orgasm as he jerked himself— and held out his left, making a grabbing motion to show the other man what he meant. 

George crooned. “Oh, darling.” 

Matty felt George shifting over him, then felt a comforting warmth cover his searching hand and grasp it tightly. George intertwined their fingers and Matty cried loudly as he came undone, spilling ribbon after ribbon of hot come all over his stomach. 

George continued to rub his prostate, working him through what was probably the most legendary orgasm he’d ever experienced. Once it had finished its course, he was shaking with oversensitivity and whining for George to stop. 

“Ah- _Ahhhh…_ H-Hurts, George! No more, _please- ngh!_ I can’t!” 

Immediately, George ceased the movement of his fingers. He waited for a moment before he began to twist them out of Matty who squeaked and mewled softly at the pain of George’s fingers being pulled from inside him. Soon enough, he was empty again, sweet smelling slick dribbling out of his abused hole onto the sheets underneath him. He didn’t need to be full anymore. He was finally satisfied. 

George wiped his right hand off on the sheets and moved to caress Matty’s flushed cheeks, brushing his tears away. “Don’t cry, Matthew. You did so well.”

Matty sighed contently. He felt himself slipping out of his right mind as he listened to George’s sincere sweet-talking. He smiled and blinked sleepily at the larger man. 

“Let’s clean you up, love.” George moved to leave the bed. 

“Nooo!” Matty whined in protest before speaking out in a small, quiet voice that George had never heard from him before. “Don’t leave, George. _Stay_.” 

George looked into Matty’s sad eyes that glittered with tears which threatened to spill at any second and his heart nearly broke in two. He leaned in and pecked Matty on the tip of his nose, cupping his face in both hands and spoke to him delicately as he thumbed over the soft skin of his warm face. “I’m just going to the toilet to grab a flannel, okay Matty? Gonna clean you up.” 

Matty whimpered. “Promise you’ll come back?” His whole world would crumble if George didn’t return. 

George nodded before speaking with conviction. “Give me _ten_ _seconds_.”

Matty hesitantly nodded the okay for George to leave. 

George gave him a soft pat on the cheek. “Be right back,” he whispered. He quickly removed himself from the bed and walked into the bathroom, flipping the light switch on. The sudden painful brightness caused him to hiss vampirically and he shut the light off. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He could hardly see the brown of his irises anymore. His pupils were dilated twice their normal size. He also noticed that his dick was still soft in his jeans, which was probably a good thing. The potency of the sativa strain he’d smoked was so strong, he wouldn’t be able to get hard for at least another day. He would definitely be having a wank over this once the effects of the THC wore off though… He moved to grab a hand towel from the rack next to the counter and ran it under some cool water. He walked over to the bed and smiled softly at what he saw in front of him. Matty was curled up adorably on top of the sheets, eyes shut and seemingly content. 

George sat on the edge of the bed. “Matty?” He whispered. 

Matty hummed contently through his nose. 

“Are you asleep?” 

“Uh-uh, George. ‘M awake,” Matty slurred.

“Stretch out, darling, let me wipe you off.” 

Matty complied with George’s behest and uncurled himself, stretching out so George could clean him. “I’m sticky, George...” He mumbled absentmindedly as he trailed a digit through the pearlescent come on his tummy, looking at the viscous substance on his fingertip through heavy lidded eyes. 

“I know.” George chuckled lowly as he brought the flannel to Matty’s stomach. “Made a big mess all over yourself, didn’t you?” 

Matty flushed and whimpered coyly, wiping his finger off on the sheets. He allowed himself to relax as George whispered soft, little endearments to him while he ran the damp cloth over his hot skin, and shuddered as the muscles in his abdomen jumped ticklishly at George’s soft touch. 

The larger man spread Matty’s legs once more and Matty whined as he ran the flannel over his softening cock and sensitive hole. 

“There. All clean, babe.” George unceremoniously tossed the flannel onto the carpet, worrying more about holding Matty close to him then he did about keeping the hotel room clean. He removed the shirt he was wearing, throwing it on the floor as well. He picked Matty up and whisked him away from his soiled sheets, carrying him through the door to his adjoining room. He set Matty down on his bed and draped a soft throw blanket over him before joining him on top of the fresh duvet. He took Matty in his arms, tugging him safely into his chest and resting his chin in the nest of soft curls on the crown of Matty’s head. 

“Thank you, George,” Matty whispered sleepily. _“Love you.”_

George raised his eyebrows at the sentiment and smiled softly. _“Love you too.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading.  
> I hope you love this just as much as I do.  
> Leave a like and a comment if you'd like to see more of this or have any constructive criticism to offer. Every comment literally means the world to me <3  
> {PS: I've been working on a more wholesome, multi-chapter project that should be out soon... So look out for that! ;)}


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